Demolition is always way easier (and much more fun) than actually fixing things, as the following photos will show.

Just one corner of the general chaos that is our home...

First, we covered every conceivable (and some unconceivable) surface with drop cloths, cardboard, and duct tape.

Then, they ground off all the bottom paint, right down to the bare fiberglass, took off the blue stripes, cut out the patches of damaged fiberglass on the fly bridge, and ripped the non-skid off the entire main deck. Dust everywhere.

Galley demolition in progress...

Next they tore out the galley – bare wood and gaping holes everywhere.

And they took apart the bed to get at the leaking water tank and install a special liner.

Cutting wallpaper for the master bath, using the deconstructed bed as a work table

Exploring the water tank gives new meaning to diving...

While they were having all that fun, I stripped the vinyl wallcovering off in the master head, recovered it with TexturGlas, a fiberglass “wallpaper” and painted it. The masking tape and paint drips are yet to be removed.

We’ve been out of the water since March 21, and forward progress, though methodical and of great quality, is slow.  And meh, it’s only money (cough).

We’re staying in a sweet little motel called Bungalows Mar-Sol, run by a charming woman named Miguelina, only a 50-cent, 5-minute bus ride away. We’ve got dishes, pots and pans, a gas range and microwave…and we’re within walking distance of some great restaurants and evening entertainment. Best of all, there’s no grinding, sanding, pounding, or chemical smells around…

We expect to have everything put back together by the second week in May, providing there are no surprises.Ole goes back to work soon, and I’ll be left with the fun of putting it all back together into some kind of liveable condition. Thank goodness there’s plenty of good help around!

Emma Jo High and Dry

Here we are, high and dry, with the accompanying chaos.

Our Tuesday haulout didn’t go as planned, as the north winds kicked up and Miriam, the lift operator, plans methodically for a calm, stress-free haulout. At her recommendation we waited until Wednesday morning, which was perfect.

Miriam the Lit Operator at Singlar, Mazatlan

We entered the lift at 9:05 a.m., and were high and dry by 9:45, with guys armed with a pressure-washer at the ready. It’s the first time we’ve seen a travelift operated by remote control, and with a cute, petite woman at the command. She’s a pro, and doesn’t lift a finger unless everything is perfect.

It was also the first time we stayed aboard until the boat was supported by the sling – the travelift moved us forward, the guys organized a ladder at the front rail, and we just stepped off. Brilliant!

We were in our designated work spot by about 1:00 p.m., with the crew beginning the tedious work of grinding off barnacles. Once we saw the propellers and the running gear, it was clear why we only managed a top speed of 7.5 knots! Those critters, plus the slime and fur of whatever prehistoric warm-water organisms like living on boat bottoms, manage to slow us down considerably!

A Thursday meeting with Rick Cummings of Marine Services Mazatlan gave us all kinds of confidence that this will be a successful haulout. We’re going to get the bottom painted, the trim stripes redone in AwlGrip, some fiberglass and gelcoat dings repaired, and a galley refit (hooray?). Essentially, we told Rick in general what we wanted; he took a tour of the boat and made some notes, and returned today with preliminary figures.

Removing the Electricity-Hogging Jenn-Aire

In the meantime, we’ve been working hard. The first day we knocked 11 items off our 30-item list, and yesterday I stripped all the 27-year-old vinyl wall covering out of the master head. I guess we’re committed now! Ole’s been all over the boat, taking out the huge Jenn-Aire range (with Chris’ manly help) and cleaning seawater intakes and marking anchor chain.

Redoing the Master Bath -- We're Committed Now!

We’ve also secured a hotel room for the duration. It’s a bit tough to live “on the hard” with no running water and no toilets – and since we don’t pay for “lay days” while Rick and his guys are working on the boat, the $35 a day we’re spending at Bungalows Mar Sol is well worth the comfort. We’ve got unlimited hot water, a kitchenette with gas cooktop and microwave, and full-size fridge.

The Bungalows attract a very loyal following of Canadians and Americans – a group of whom have been coming here for 21 straight years to spend the winter. And Miguelina, the owner, couldn’t be sweeter. The hotel is a 20-minute walk or a 50-cent bus ride from the yard, and transportation is constant. It looks like, from Rick’s initial estimate, we could be here for as many as 8 weeks until the work is completed. We don’t mind a bit – it’s safe, secure, friendly, and cozy.

Montalaya and Barbecued Lamb -- the Aftermath

This afternoon we found a great restaurant – Montalaya – famous for Borrego, barbecued lamb. The waiter brought a charcoal brazier and 8 side dishes, then an entire kilogram of the most tender, succulent lamb we’ve ever tasted. Served with hot corn or wheat tortillas, a slather of guacamole, a squeeze of lime juice, a splash of green salsa and a garnish of cilantro, these do-it-yourself lamb tacos made piggies out of all four of us! Add in an ice-cold Pacifico or Negro Modelo, and the after-image speaks for itself!

Well I guess we paid our dues the other night rounding Cabo Corientes in that mess.

Our 185-mile passage north to Mazatlan was … dare I say … spectacular. We had little to no wind, with the anemometer showing between 9 and 11 knots relative and subtracting our speed of around 7 knots we can safely say we saw less than 6 knots of real wind the whole 25 hours.

And with that little wind, the sea was almost mirror-calm with little cat’s paws raking the surface every now and then and a gentle swell of 0 to 2 feet most of the way.

During the night we passed two sailboats heading in our direction, giving me practice at identifying targets on the radar at night and verifying what running lights on a sailboat’s spreaders look like. The radio was quiet.

Arriving Mazatlan -- Humpback Whales at Dawn

The icing on the cake was a sighting of humpback whales just after sunrise, a mother and calf feeding not 100 yards off our starboard side. When they sounded, I ran for the camera and hoped they would appear again for a picture…and as luck would have it, they surfaced and blew about 50 yards off the port side.

I could get used to that – but probably shouldn’t.

We made better speed than we anticipated, and arrived abeam of Mazatlan’s harbor by 8:30. It was just another 45 minutes to the entrance to El Cid Marina and the protection of Marina Mazatlan. And when we got there, the “welcoming committee” was ready: Chris, Gerry, and Goof standing at the end of the dock waiting to catch our lines.

Ole had wondered whether Goof would remember him, and as we slid up the channel toward the dock to within about 200 yards, I could hear Goof whining and see her dancing – she absolutely recognized the sound of our engines and the look of our boat. As we were securing the lines, she was beside herself to leap on the boat and run circles around Ole, whining, singing and dancing. What a great dog!

Marian at the Fonatur Marina is a doll, and made our check-in delightful. A nice walk over to Marina Mazatlan for a look-see and a hot breakfast prepped us nicely for our arrival nap. And at Gerry and Chris’s suggestion, dinner at the Fat Fish on Mazatlan’s Gold Coast was fabulous – barbecued pork ribs with what tasted like my mom’s favorite orange sparerib sauce.

All in all, a very very good day! We’re scheduled to go out of the water on Tuesday afternoon, as the yard doesn’t work on Sundays and Monday is a national holiday.

The Dolphin Statue at Marina Nautica Puerto Vallarta

We spent a pleasant four days at the marina in La Cruz, and Ole was in pig heaven wandering around the downtown chandlery Zaragosa Marine, saving me thousands of dollars by not buying everything that caught his fancy.

The bus system makes all kinds of sense here – for 16 pesos, the equivalent of a dollar and a half, we were able to take a 45-minute trip into town for supplies, lunch, and a much-needed haircut. Neither of us has been here since the mid-80s, and the development is astounding.

And we’ve thoroughly enjoyed the company of Daneen and Andy on Rose, dining at the marina restaurant, hosting them for baccalao, and passing “jam night” at the famous Philo’s restaurant complete with falling-off-the-bone bbq ribs and some great amateur (and closet professional) musicians entertaining us until just after midnight.

The little town of La Cruz de Guanacaxtle is where the hippies came to hang out during the Vietnam war exodus from the U.S. It started as a little out-of-the-way fishing village, and now hosts this huge marina and a bunch of great little restaurants, cafes, and shops catering to aging hippies and cruisers.

Unfortunately, we didn’t do much in the way of photography. I spent two of our days here completing some articles for my chief client, and Ole spent those same two days puttering around making sure everything is okay for this leg of our trip – the 185 or so miles to Mazatlan.

We left the dock at 8:00 this morning, spent an hour circling the bay trying to reset the heading sensor (our chart plotter shows our boat going sideways up the coast), then started out of Banderas Bay at 9:00. Rumor has it we’re likely to spot whales during this leg…we’ll keep the camera at the ready just in case.

Sea Turtle enroute from Puerto Vallarta to Mazatlan (us, not him)

And oh…as luck would have it, we played “turtle minefield” again. Managed to just snag this guy…

Well, THAT was fun.

When we left Chamela last Monday morning, we saw the only “hole” in the weather around Cabo Corientes would occur between 6:00 and 10:00 pm, when the winds would theoretically die down to less than 15 knots.  The forecast for the rest of the week was 20-25 knots for days.

We timed our departure accordingly, leaving Chamela just before 8:00 a.m. to travel with a few sailboats toward the Cape. The late morning hours were fine – certainly 5-7 foot swells, and apparent wind from 15-20 knots. I made lunch…then it all went horribly wrong.

The wind picked up substantially, (30 knots on the nose) and since the wind, the current, the tide and the swells were all going a different direction, the resulting harmonic disturbance called”chop” got very very ugly, very very fast. We slogged and pounded for between 5 and 6 hours in the worst sea conditions we’ve seen since we started – a 6-8 foot wind chop on top of the 5-7 foot swells.

This time I wasn’t so much scared as just plain uncomfortable. I said 5 years ago when we were traveling the Yucatan coast that the boat can take way more than we can – and this particular passage proved it once again.

We slowed down to between 5 and 6 knots to avoid bashing in the windows or the docking lights on the bow, and listened helplessly as some of our “buddy” sailboaters complained of making less than 2 knots in that crap, taking green water into their cockpits and places in their boats they’ve never had water before. At least we stayed dry.

But when we rounded the last waypoint at Cabo Coreientes into Banderas Bay at 6 p.m., just as predicted, the wind died back to less than 15, the whitecaps disappeared, and the chop laid down nicely. We pulled into Marina Riviera Nayarit (La Cruz) at just after 11:00 p.m. into a slip that our friends Andy and Daneen on s/v Rose were able to snag for us.

It was a two-shot “arrival dram,” – and a great night’s sleep.

We awoke to discover that March is the month for the Puerto Vallarta Sailing Regatta – a month of races of all sorts of sailboats from little to big. That should have been our clue that traveling this coast in March isn’t such a good idea unless you’re a sailboat racer.

What a wonderful few days it’s been here at Bahia Tenacatita, just over 30 miles northwest of Manzanillo. As far as anchorages go, this is one of our top 5 so far.  We’re snug as a bug behind Punta Chubasco and nestled among about 15 other boats (most of them with sticks). Afternoon breezes have come up, nothing past 10-15 knots, and at night, the wind lays down nicely and leaves us with a gentle “wrap-around” swell – just enough to rock us to sleep.

Both mornings have featured company for breakfast – dolphins feeding among the anchored boats. Way too unpredictable to snap a photo, so you’ll just have to take our word for it.

Mangrove estuary at Tenacatita

Our first day here, we lowered the dinghy to explore the famous mangrove estuary that winds 2-3 miles across the peninsula. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it all the way to the lagoon, as the last half mile or so has been blocked by storm damage and the locals haven’t quite finished clearing the path.

Black-crowned Night Heron, Tenacatita

We were able to see some bird life, but the cocodrillos didn’t make an appearance that we could spot. Beautiful Snowy Egrets with black legs and comical yellow “Big Bird” feet and a Black-Crowned Night Heron made appearances and posed for photos. The estuary gradually narrowed until we were in a virtual tunnel of red mangrove, listening to the weird snapping only pistol shrimp can make.

Once we had turned around and made for the estuary entrance, we realized something important about the Pacific side of this journey:  tides. See, in the Caribbean, all the way to Bocas del Toro, we only had to worry about 15-18 inches of tide. The dinghy pretty much stayed where we put it.

But on this side, we didn’t take into account that we started up the estuary as the tide was going out. That meant that what had been under water when we went UP the river was now open and exposed – and the current at the mouth of the estuary wanted to slam us sideways onto the entrance bar. So we hauled the dinghy, by hand, and waded up around the bend to leave it in the care of a friendly panga owner named Jimmy while we decided to have lunch and think through the mechanics of launching the dinghy in surf.

Lunch at La Vena – a simple palapa restaurant – was incredible. The local specialty is “rollo del mar,” a fish filet wrapped around a shrimp and celery filling, held fast with strips of bacon, then baked and covered with an almond cream sauce. That – and two ice cold beers – fortified us to figure out how to get out and over the surf where the water was deep enough to lower the engine.

We made it back to the boat with no casualties, pride intact, and a dinghy full of sand. Lesson learned.

At "Good Dog" Beach in Tenacatita

Yesterday morning we puttered around the boat, catching up on laundry and chores so we could take the dinghy to the beach for a picnic and a swim, our first on this trip north. The water and air were both a balmy 80 degrees and it felt great to slide through the water and loosen the joints as we snorkeled around the rocks. Wildlife spotted: one small dead stingray on the bottom.

Dinghy Raft-Up and Potluck, Tenacatita

For cocktail hour, we experienced a Pacific Mexico cruising phenomenon called the “dinghy raft-up” for the first time. One dinghy serves as “host,” picks a calm spot and drops his anchor. Then other dinghies arrive and tie up to the anchor boat, dropping their own anchors as needed.

What we didn’t realize, as newbies, is that the dinghy raft-up is also a potluck. As more and more boats arrived, and as soon as everyone had finished introducing themselves, food appeared from nowhere! Nachos, crab dip, homemade biscuits and brownies, even spaghetti and pasta salad all emerged from under cover and were passed boat to boat along with ziplock bags to exchange boat cards.

Ole counted 12 dinghies tied together on 3 anchors. We sat for a couple of hours, told sea stories, exchanged paperbacks and dvds, and generally enjoyed ourselves until sunset. Wonder why we’ve never experienced that before. Could it be the challenges of the dreaded “surf landing?”

Tomorrow morning after breakfast, we’re going to go another 30 miles up to Chamela, a good resting-up stop for a long, possibly rough stretch to get into Puerto Vallarta tomorrow.

Morning in Barra de Navidad Lagoon

Barra de Navidad is one of those magical places we dreamt about when we took off from Florida over 5 years ago. It’s a large, sheltered, shallow lagoon behind a long, crescent-shaped beach, offering protection from swell, lots of entertainment from the fishermen and competing seabirds, and a sweet little town well worth exploring.

Opportunistic Pelican

The French Baker -- Croissants at Your Doorstep!

We woke this morning to mirror-calm water, a spectacular sunrise, and fishermen casting large circular nets in the shallows. During the second cup of coffee, we were offered an offbeat treat: fresh-baked French pastry delivered right to our swim step with a hearty, authentic “Bonjour, masseur/dames.” (Cue Homer Simpson voice…yummmmm).

Once we were awake and alert, we called a water taxi to take us into town. It’s a great deal: hail them on the radio, they pick you up at your boat, you pay for the round trip (25 pesos) at their terminal in town – then return to your boat any time you want, day or night.

A Street Corner in Barra de Navidad

Town itself is a jewel — tidy, colorful streets with posadas and pensions for the surfer-set; fish and meat markets, cafes and seafood restaurants, and a wonderful malecon separating town from the lagoon. We had a long stroll to explore the town, and ended up at the Sands Hotel, famous as a hospitable hangout for cruisers. As long as you buy a drink or something to eat, you’re welcome to tie up your dinghy, use the internet, and relax in the pool.

Bahia de Navidad, Looking Toward Melaque

We got back to the boat in time for the predicted winds to funnel through the mountains into the lagoon – and they steadily built to over 25 knots. Which leads us to “pudding.”

The bottom here in the lagoon is a fluffy mixture of clay, sand, and silt, with nothing much to hold fast to. It’s the only place we’ve been where to anchor in 5 feet of water we needed to put out 150 feet of chain. (What’s that scope…30 to 1???)

While Ole was down in the engine room with John from Jonco, diagnosing the still-underperforming generator, I looked up from the computer to see us sliding dangerously close to a sailboat on our starboard and a bigger sailboat on our stern. So, in spite of the threat of being blown overboard by the wind, we hauled up the anchor and crept over the shallows to try to reset – twice. With nearly 200 feet of chain out, we finally stuck.

Close Neighbors!

But not our neighbors. A quick check over the stern saw them sliding eastward, so they made a couple of attempts and ended up sticking — so close to us we could probably put a gangway across for cocktails. The winds blew into the night, finally subsiding to 15 knots near bedtime.

Even though I’m nervous about them being so close, Ole assures me there’s plenty of swinging room.

It’s been a wonderful few days here in Manzanillo, and it’s amazing how quickly we can settle into a routine once we’ve found a great place like this. Mornings puttering around getting chores done, then afternoons by the pool, with the obligatory margarita for me and Negra Modelo for Ole.

One of the best things about this lifestyle is connecting with people who share our passion for cruising…making new friends at each anchorage, and reconnecting with those we’ve met along the way. We’ve shared dinner and boat brand knowledge with Ron and Sheryl from Lazy Days, a 44+5 DeFever. We’ve reconnected with Barb and Gary from Hurrah, a Taiana double-ender we originally met in Bocas del Toro. And we met the wonderful Christophe and Marianne, Swiss friends of Gerry and Chris whom we’ve heard so much about.

Santiago Market

Many of us got together yesterday for a trip to Santiago, just a mile or two down the road, where we explored the weekly market. It was huge – a covered tent-like space featuring hundreds of vendors of everything from handcrafts to tools to the most beautiful berries I’ve ever seen. Two hours of pleasant meandering later, we all met for a great brunch at Juanito’s, a great little café run by a Canadian fellow who retired here in the 1970s.

And last night, ten of us went to dinner at La Toscana, a wonderful waterfront restaurant to celebrate Margy’s 60^th birthday. With a menu featuring European-inspired specialties like escargot, magret de canard (duck breast), and fresh mahi mahi, grouper, and langostinos, we ate our brains out, shared stories, and generally celebrated our good fortune to have such a life.

This morning we hauled anchor, and headed up toward Barra de Navidad, a journey that should take us no more than about 4 hours. While the winds are fairly calm, we’re encountering swells of 6-8 feet, a little bigger than we’ve had so far, but nothing we or the boat can’t handle.

We found the entrance to Barra de Navidad Lagoon, followed the markers as far as they went, then crept out into the shallows and anchored with something like 2.5 feet of water under the keel. Reminded us of Florida!

There are just under 30 boats at anchor here in the lagoon…and we’re the only power boat. Makes us easy to spot if we need anything.

We’ve been at anchor off the spectacular Las Hadas Resort since last Monday. A small fee of 200 pesos per day or 1000 pesos per week gets us all the resort privileges…swimming pool, beach towels, gym usage, and discounts at the bars and restaurants. And nice staff who deliver poolside cocktails and snackies. Plus a great little marine chandlery with more stuff than we’ve seen in one place for the last 5 years!

There are a few other boats in here, making it fun to mosey over to the pool in the afternoon to catch up with old friends and make new ones. All in all, it’s a great place to pause before poking our way north.

On Wednesday, we braved the steep walk up the hill to catch a bus to pick up some groceries on the “strip” – Miguel de la Madrid Boulevard – that houses two huge “big-box” grocery stores, a Wal-Mart, Office Depot, and more gringo-friendly ferreterias and restaurants than we could visit in months here.

The buses are well worth the 50-cent (6-peso) ride. Although it says “Mercedes-Benz” on the hood, these puppies have been around the block several times already. There’s not one brake liner to be had among the dozens plying the boulevard. And shock absorbers? Hah. We don’t need no stinkin’ shock absorbers.

They seem to have two speeds:  go and stop. “Go” means pedal to the metal, passing parked cars and overtaking vehicles with inches to spare. “Stop” means standing full-on the brake pedal and ignoring the ugly sound of metal on metal as the last molecules of brake liner vaporize into nothing.

Sure, a taxi would be more comfortable. And literally, ten times the price.

The grocery shopping was so exhausting, we just had to recover by the pool.

Thursday, we braved yet another bus excursion, this time to downtown Manzanillo. We had no idea the city was such a huge port – with miles of container docks and industrial plants lining the bay on the way into town.

As a city, Manzanillo isn’t particularly pretty. The streets and sidewalks are clean and swept, but the buildings are in disrepair, with crumbling paint and streaks of rust marring their typical whitewashed walls. There’s a great central market – 5 de Mayo – with all the fruit, veg, meat and fish you’d ever want – and individual shops selling everything from auto parts to confirmation dresses.

The bus trip back (about 45 minutes, with passengers jammed into standing-room-only) was so exhausting, we just had to recover by the pool – again.

We reckon we’ll be here until Sunday morning, when we’ll make the 25 miles north to Barra de Navidad.

We’ve been underway since 2:00 p.m. yesterday, and are currently about 4 hours from our anchorage in Manzanillo, where we expect to arrive some time between 4:00 and 4:30 p.m.

Our principal weather sites, Magic Seaweed, PassageWeather, and BuoyWeather, indicated we’d have little to no wind, and very small swell today – and that conditions would begin deteriorating tomorrow. So off went the lines, and out we went, planning on a passage of about 27 hours to travel the 180 or so miles.

So far it’s been a great trip…with no wind beyond the normal onshore/offshore daily pattern, and swells less than 2-3 feet. Last night we worried we were the last people on earth, as we saw nothing on the radar for hours at a time (fine by me).

It’s been so quiet, as a matter of fact, that this morning until about 10:00 it was like glass…not a ripple on the water. There hasn’t been much in the way of sea life – but we’re noticing different birds here than just 400 miles south:  Caspian terns, brown boobies, and the occasional gull cruise by to have a look at us. More often than not, we’ll identify the location of a sea turtle because we’ll see a bird standing on its back to rest.